FREEDOM
The moon had risen by now, and a walk of two or three hundred yards
brought us into the village, which we entered without seeing any one. It
was quite a small place, and though nearly 1 o'clock there were several
houses in which lights were showing. "I suppose we really are in
Switzerland," said Buckley. I felt certain about it, and we determined
to knock up one of the houses in which we saw lights burning, as food we
must and would have without delay. We were standing in a small cobbled
square, and just as we were selecting the most likely looking house we
caught sight of two men who were standing in a dark spot about 30 yards
away. I called out to them in German, "Is this Barzheim?" "Jawohl" was
the answer. "Are we in Switzerland?" Again, "Jawohl." "Well, we are
escaping prisoners-of-war from Germany and we are very hungry." The two
fellows, whom we saw to be boys of sixteen or seventeen, came up. We
were very much on our guard and ready for trouble, for we believed then,
though I do not know with what justice, that the Germans have agents on
the Swiss side of the border who misdirect escaped prisoners so that
they walk back into Germany, or even forcibly deliver them to the
German sentries. "Escaped prisoners, are you?" said one of the young
men. "Yes," I said, "Englishmen." They showed some interest. "We are
English officers, and we want food very badly." "Come on," they said,
and led us to a house at the corner of the square. Then we sat on a
wooden bench, and they lit a candle and had a look at us.
We repeated our desire for food, and they cross-questioned us and tried
us with a word or two of English. They were much interested in the fact
that we were English officers, as no Englishmen had crossed before at
that place.
Concerning the rest of that night my memory rather fails me, but soon
the whole household was roused--father, mother, and daughter. Wine,
beer, and milk were produced; also bread, and cold bacon and three fine
eggs each. We ate everything there was, and I think cleaned out the
family larder, whilst the family sat round and questioned us, and were
much surprised to find that two English officers could speak German.
They could not possibly have been kinder or more friendly, and
absolutely refused to take money from us. They were delighted to be our
hosts and show themselves good neutrals, they said. As we had visions of
hot baths, sheets, and breakfast in bed, we expressed our intention of
going on to Schafhausen that night, but the father rather shocked us by
saying that we must be handed over to the Swiss frontier post. The girl,
however, tactfully added that, if we went on, we might easily lose our
way and walk back into Germany, and that with the Swiss soldiers we
should be perfectly safe.
That decided us, as we were both beginning to feel very sleepy after the
food and wine.
Soon afterwards one of the boys took us across to the guardhouse, where
soldiers provided us with mattresses and we fell asleep instantly.
At an early hour next morning the soldiers brought us hot water and
shaved us and bound up my feet. They were extraordinarily good to us,
and, after we had had coffee and bread, they filled our pockets with
cigars and cigarettes and sent us off with the best wishes and a guide
to the station about 2 kilometres away. The road passed quite close to
the German frontier, and we felt glad that we had not tried to pass that
way the night before. We soon found that our guide was really a
plain-clothes police officer, and that, though the fact was tactfully
concealed, we were still under arrest. However, "What does it matter?"
we said. "Food is the main thing now, and we'll escape from any old
prison in Switzerland, if it comes to that." Our "guide" seemed a very
decent fellow, and told us that we were about to travel on a German
railway. We halted abruptly whilst he explained at some length that,
though it was a German-owned railway, the Germans had no rights over the
Swiss traffic on the railway, and that under no circumstances could we
be arrested by the Germans when on that bit of their railway which ran
through Switzerland. More or less satisfied, we went on again. In the
village we entered a pub, rather against our guide's will, and had some
more coffee and bread. It was wonderful how much stronger we felt owing
to the food. Buckley, when he had stripped to wash that morning, had
shown himself to be a living skeleton, and I was not much fatter.
Whilst in the pub a fat dirty fellow came and congratulated us, and
questioned us in bad English. I have no doubt now that he was a German
agent, and I think we were rather injudicious in our answers, but we had
sense enough to hold our tongues about the important points--when we
crossed, and how, etc.
The railway journey to Schafhausen was rather amusing. It was so very
obvious that we were escaped prisoners, as we still had on service
tunics, and, except for that portion of our faces which had been scraped
with a razor, we were filthily dirty from head to foot. Our clothes were
covered with mud, with thick pads of it on our knees and elbows where we
had crawled the night before, and our faces and hands covered with sores
and swellings from unhealed scratches and insect bites.
Several German railway officials gave us a first glance of surprise and
indignation, and thereafter were careful not to look in our direction.
Considering the temptations of the situation we behaved on the whole
very decently, but even the mildest form of revenge is sweet.
At Schafhausen our guide or keeper took us to the police and secret
service headquarters and introduced us to a Swiss Lieutenant who spoke
alternately German and French, with a preference for the former. He told
us that we would be lodged at Hotel something or other, and would be
sent down to Berne on Monday, that day being Friday. I thanked him, and
said that we wished to get on the telephone to a friend in the English
Embassy at Berne, and we should much prefer to go down that afternoon.
As for waiting in Schafhausen till Monday, it was out of the question.
He had a great struggle to put it with the utmost politeness, but his
answer came to this. He did not see how it could be arranged, and we had
no option in the matter; we should be extremely comfortable, etc. We
answered firmly, but politely, that we had not got out of Germany to be
confined in Schafhausen, and that there was a train at 3 o'clock which
would suit us.
Just at this moment a Swiss major came in. The lieutenant introduced us,
and I appealed to him to allow us to go to Berne that day. After some
argument he suddenly gave in, and ordered the lieutenant to take us to
Berne by the 3 o'clock train. Then turning to us he said, with a
charming smile, "Come and lunch with me before you go." We then walked
round the town with the lieutenant, bought some things, and Buckley
telephoned to H. at the Embassy. We got back late for lunch, only ten
minutes before the train started. However, we managed to bolt four
courses and half a bottle of champagne apiece, and just as the
lieutenant, who had been prophesying for some minutes that we should
miss the train, finally stated that it was hopeless to try and catch it
now, we got up and ran for it, with him lumbering behind. We just caught
it. At Berne we were met by H., who threw up his hands in horror at the
sight of us and bundled us into a closed taxi.
At one of the most luxurious hotels in the world, we had a most
heavenly bath, and changed into beautiful clean clothes lent to us by H.
That night H. gave a dinner in our honor. Buckley and I were ravenously
hungry, and in fact for the next fortnight were quite unable to satisfy
our appetites. But besides the good food the dinner was otherwise most
amusing, because the German Embassy inhabited the same hotel and dined a
few tables from us, and no secret was made of what we were and where we
had come from. The next morning we had the oft-anticipated breakfast in
bed. I ordered, by telephone from my bed, the largest breakfast
possible, and was disgusted to see the moderate-sized feed which
arrived, the waiter explaining that the amount of one breakfast was
limited by law. I instantly ordered a second breakfast exactly like the
first, and ate all that too. I found out afterwards that Buckley had
employed exactly the same ruse for obtaining more food!
That day we were invited to lunch by the English Minister, who was
extremely kind, but I think rather astonished at our appetites. After
lunch, Buckley and I strolled about for a bit, and then by common
consent made for a tea-shop, where we had another good feed. In fact, we
made pigs of ourselves in the eating line, and for the next fortnight or
three weeks ate as much and as often as possible, without ever being
satisfied, and, which is still more astonishing, without any ill
effects. I suppose we were safeguarded by the fact that we ate good
food, and as we were in civilized society it was scarcely possible to
eat more than a limited amount at any one meal.
H. lent us money, and in Berne we bought expensive watches and
ready-made clothes, and then obtained leave to visit my brother and
sister at Muerren. This was the same brother to whom I have already
referred as a wounded prisoner-of-war. A few months before our escape he
had been invalided out of Germany, and my sister, who was a trained
masseuse, went out to Switzerland to look after him, and I believe did
much useful work among the exchanged prisoners. H. sent us over to
Muerren in the embassy car, a most beautiful journey all along the edge
of the lake. At one point our car was stopped by a party of exchanged
English officers, who, poor fellows, mostly keen regular soldiers, were
condemned to spend the rest of the war in Switzerland. They wanted to
hear our story, and were full of enthusiasm because we had scored off
the Germans.
At the foot of the funicular railway we met my brother and sister, and
at Muerren itself which I had no idea was a camp for exchanged English
soldiers, all the men turned out, and, headed by a wild Irishman with a
huge placard "Welcome back from Hun-land" and a bell, gave us a
tremendous reception, for which Buckley and I were entirely unprepared.
This brings to an end all that is of any interest in my German
experiences. After two very pleasant days at Muerren we traveled _via_
Berne to Paris, and then by car to General Headquarters (where I fear we
were unable to give much information that was of value), and so home to
England.
There is one other thing I should like to say before I bring this story
to a close. Although Buckley and I are among the few English officers
who have escaped from Germany, there were many others who tried to
escape more often, who took more risks, who were at least as skilful as
we were, but who had not the luck and consequently never tasted the
fruits of success. Several died or were murdered in their attempts.
In my opinion no prisoner-of-war has ever escaped without more than a
fair share of luck, and no one ever will. However hard you try, however
skilful you are, luck is an essential element in a successful escape.
PART II
CHAPTER I
ARABS, TURKS, AND GERMANS
The interval between my escape from Germany, June 8th, 1917 and March
1918, when I had been for a couple of months in command of a squadron of
bombing aeroplanes on the Palestine front, had been taken up with
matters of great personal interest, of which I can give here only the
barest outline. Things move so fast in modern war that after a year's
absence I was as much out of date as Rip Van Winkle after his hundred
years' sleep. There were new organizations, new tactics, new theories,
and in my own department, new types of aeroplanes, of power and
capabilities of which we had only dreamed in 1916. I had to learn to fly
once more, and went through a course of artillery observation, for I had
every reason to hope that I should be given command of an artillery
squadron in France. However, this was forbidden. The powers that be
decreed that no escaped prisoner might return to the same front from
which he had been captured. This ruling was afterwards altered, but not
before I had been captured by the Turks.
After some months spent in teaching flying in England and in Egypt at
Aboukir, I was sent up to Palestine early in the year in command of a
bombing squadron. I hated bombing, and knew nothing about it; and,
though I was very pleased with my command, the fact that I had to deal
in bombs and not wireless rather took the gilt off the gingerbread.
However, after the experiences of a German prison, the spring weather of
Palestine, the comparative peacefulness of our warfare, and an almost
independent command were very, very pleasant.
The story opens on March 19th, 1918 with a flight of aeroplanes flying
eastward on a cloudy day, at a height of some 4000 feet, over the Dead
Sea. Our objective was the station of Kutrani, on the Hedjaz Railway.
There were five or six single-seater aeroplanes, in one of which I was
flying, escorted by a couple of Bristol fighters. It was a very
unpleasant day for formation flying, for not only was it very bumpy as
we came over the mountains, which border the Dead Sea, but the very
numerous patches of cloud made it both difficult and dangerous to keep
at the right distance from one's neighbor. We lost our way once, but
eventually found the station which was our objective. A train was just
leaving. So I came down rather low and let off two of my bombs
unsuccessfully at it, and in doing so lost the rest of the formation.
Close by the station there was a German plane standing on an aerodrome
which I had a shot at, and I then unloaded the rest of the cargo on the
station itself without, as far as I could see, doing much damage. By
this time I was far below the clouds, and could see no signs of the rest
of the squadron. After cruising about for a few minutes I headed for
home, keeping just below the clouds, and very soon caught a glimpse of a
Bristol fighter. He saw me at the same time, and for the next twenty
minutes we flew side by side. The country below us was of a greeny-brown
color in the sunlight, and had the appearance of a great plain bounded
on the west by the mountains of the Dead Sea, which we had to cross. In
reality it was far from flat, as could be guessed from the occasional
zigzags in the white tracks which connected the widely scattered
villages. Here and there were small brown patches which represented
plough land, and black mounds, which were the tents of the desert Arabs.
I hated these long bomb raids, for the fear of recapture was always on
me whilst I was over enemy territory. My nerves had suffered from the
events of the previous three years, and it had been only by a great
effort of will that I had forced myself to take part in expeditions far
over the lines. Perhaps the majority of men are more afraid of being
afraid than of anything else--and it may have been partly for this
reason, but mainly for another more weighty reason, that I found myself
alone in an aeroplane on the wrong side of the Dead Sea. However, in ten
minutes we would cross the mountains and the Dead Sea, and be over
comparatively friendly territory. I say "comparatively," because it was
always a matter of some uncertainty whether the temptation to murder you
and steal your kit would overstrain the good wishes of our noble allies.
Through the clouds on my left I had just caught a glimpse of the ancient
city of El Karak, when my engine sputtered badly, picked up again, and
then banged and sputtered once more and half stopped. Owing to the
clouds we were flying rather low, and would not cross the hills ahead
by more than 1000 feet or so. I checked the instruments and pressure,
closed and then slowly opened the throttle, dived with the throttle
opened; but all to no purpose, for the engine banged and backfired, and
we lost height and revolutions in an alarming way. It was an airlock or
water in the petrol, and must be given time to clear itself. How I
longed for a little more height. It seemed that the engine might pick up
again at any moment, because, for a few seconds, it would give full
power and then cut out again completely. Then I found myself a few feet
from the ground, and had to land willy-nilly. The place was a ploughed
field, almost flat and comparatively free from boulders. We did not sink
in very much, but unfortunately the wheels came to rest in a little
ditch a few inches deep.
For a moment or two I sat in the machine altering the throttle, for the
engine had not completely stopped. Then I heard a roar, and the Bristol
fighter came by, flying a few feet from the ground, and I could see the
observer waving to me. I jumped out and tried to wave them away. It was
possible, but risky, for a machine to land and get off from that ground,
and, with the hope that my engine would pick up again, I did not think
the risk was justifiable. However, they had no intention of leaving me
in the lurch, and after another turn round landed on the plough about 50
yards away. I got into my machine once more, and as they ran across
towards me my engine started once more to give its full power; but I saw
that I should have great difficulty in getting out of the ditch. When
they came up I recognized them as two most stout-hearted Australians,
Captain Austin and Lieutenant Lee, who had both gained the Military
Cross, and made a considerable reputation for themselves on the
Palestine front. They hauled on the machine whilst I roared the engine.
All in vain, however; we could not shift her. I shouted to them that we
must set this plane on fire and try to get away on theirs. "Ours is
useless," they answered. "We broke a wheel on a boulder in landing." "Is
it quite hopeless?" I said. "Yes, quite."
Leaving them to set my machine on fire, I took a revolver and a Verey's
pistol and ran over to the Bristol. As I went I saw that, from some
rising ground about 100 yards away, thirty or forty Arabs were covering
us with rifles. Hoping they would not shoot, I went on and fired first
the revolver and then the Verey's right into the petrol tank, and it
burst into flame. We soon had the other machine on fire by the same
means, and threw into the flames our maps and papers. A brief
consultation decided us that escape was quite hopeless. The Arabs could
travel over that country much faster than we could. There were very
rugged hills between us and the Dead Sea, with possibly or probably an
impassable precipice. We thought there was just a chance that the Arabs
were friendly as they had not yet fired. At any rate, it was highly
probable that they would be open to bribery. If they were definitely
hostile it was a bad lookout, and a speedy death was about all we could
hope for. It was disturbing to recall, as Lee did, in a grimly humorous
tone, that we had dropped bombs on El Karak and done considerable damage
there only the week before. However, to run was certain death, so we
waved to the Arabs and walked towards them.
The Arabs rose with a shout, and brandishing their rifles rushed towards
us. Several of them taking hold of us led us or rather dragged us along.
Filthy, evil-looking, evil-smelling brutes they were. They were mostly
clad in dirty white linen garments, with bandoliers and with belts stuck
full of knives and revolvers. Some had German rifles, but most of them
had old smooth bores which fire a colossal soft-lead bullet. To be
man-handled by these savages was most repulsive. We kept together as far
as possible and Lee, who knew a few words of Arabic, tried to make them
understand that we could give them large sums of gold if they would take
us to the English. Whether they intended to help us and whether they
were friendly we could not make out, for they jabbered and shouted and
pulled us along, so that we had little opportunity for making ourselves
understood, though Lee kept hard at it. He gave a hopeful report,
however, based on their constant repetition of the word "Sherif," and
the fact that they had not yet cut our throats nor robbed us to any
great extent. Lee had his wrist-watch stolen, and I think Austin lost a
cigarette case. I produced a very battered old gun-metal case, and after
lighting a cigarette handed the rest round to our escort, hoping this
would help to create a benevolent atmosphere. After walking a couple of
miles in this way, the Arabs keeping up a ceaseless and deafening
chatter the whole time, we came to a tumbledown deserted mud and stone
village. I found myself separated from the other two, and I and my
escort came to a halt before a half-underground mud hovel with a black
hole for an entrance, through which it would have been necessary to
crawl. It was conveyed to me by signs that I was to enter, and they
dragged me forward. I resisted, and heard Lee, who was about 30 yards
away with his crowd of ruffians, shouting to me, "Don't let them get you
in there, Evans; try and get back to us." The attitude of the brutes
round me became very threatening, and one fellow made preparation to
encourage me with a bayonet. Suddenly a horseman came galloping over the
brow, and the horse putting his foot on one of the large flat stones
which abound in this country came down with a crash and horse and rider
rolled over and over like shot rabbits. As the horse rose the rider
mounted him and again came on at full speed. Whether it was the
appearance of this horseman, or whether, as I believe, a report of the
approach of the Turks from El Karak, which caused the Arabs to change
their tactics, I don't know, but they suddenly ceased trying to force me
into the black hole, and we joined the others. I have never been quite
sure whether they had intended to murder me for my kit, or to save me
for ransom to the English. Lee had no doubts as to what my fate would
have been, and thanked God for my escape.
After we had walked for another mile or two we were met by two Turks,
who had the appearance of military policemen, and another crowd of
Arabs. In answer to a question, one of the Turks who spoke French said
that we were prisoners of the Turks, and added that we need not now be
frightened. From what the Turk said then, and subsequently, we began to
realize how lucky we were still to be alive. However, there was still
considerable cause for anxiety. All the Arabs and we three sat down in a
ring, and one of the Turks addressed the assembly at length. There was a
good deal of heckling, but at last they arrived at some decision, though
by no means unanimously. We were mounted on horses, and, with the two
Turks also mounted and a bodyguard of some thirty Arab horsemen,
proceeded towards El Karak. All around were a mob of unpleasantly
excited Arabs yelling and shouting and letting off their rifles. The
Turk who spoke French told us to keep close to him, and hinted that we
were not yet out of the wood.
El Karak is built on a pinnacle of rock which rises abruptly from the
bottom of a deep gorge. To reach the town from any side it is necessary
to descend nearly 400 feet into the gorge down a most precipitous path
of loose stones, and then climb by a track even steeper and stonier in
which there are seven zigzags to the citadel, which is almost on a level
with the rim of the gorge. In the valley, at the foot of the pinnacle,
there was a very heated dispute between the Turks and the Arabs. For ten
minutes or more, whilst our fate hung in the balance, we sat on a
boulder and watched. Once more the decision appeared to be in our favor;
and, after a further dispute, this time rather to our dismay, between
the two Turks, we climbed the path in the midst of a strong bodyguard of
the least excitable of the Arabs. At the gates of the town we were met
by a dense and hostile crowd and, at the bidding of one of the Turks,
linked our arms and pushed our way through. One fellow clutched me and
but for our linked arms would have pulled me into the mob, but with the
help of Lee and Austin I got free from him, and with a push and a
scramble we got into the citadel--the only solidly built building in the
place. Here the two Turks heaved sighs of relief, mopped their brows,
and congratulated us heartily on being in safety. It had been a very
close thing they said.
To my astonishment we were treated with the greatest consideration. Food
and coffee and cigarettes were brought to us, and shortly afterwards we
were brought into the presence of Ismail Kemal Bey, the Turkish
commandant and military governor of El Karak. In my life I have met with
few people with whom, on so short an acquaintance, I have been so
favorably impressed as I was with Ismail Kemal Bey. He was a finely
built man, with a most intelligent face and a charming smile. He had
been wounded thirteen times he told us, seven times in the Balkan wars
and six times in this war, and had been a prisoner in the hands of the
Greeks, by whom he had been disgracefully maltreated. His right arm was
completely paralyzed. As had been agreed between us, I gave my name as
Everard, for I feared that, if it was discovered that I had escaped from
a German prison, a closer guard would be kept upon me, and life
otherwise made more intolerable. I realized that this would lead to
certain difficulties with regard to informing my people that I was still
alive, and obtaining money by cheque or otherwise, as I selected a new
name quite on the spur of the moment; but I had to take that risk, and
henceforth for the rest of my captivity I was known as Everard.
Whilst we were Kemal Bey's prisoners we were his honored guests, and he
treated us with the tactful courtesy of a well-educated gentleman. That
evening we dined with him, and were given under the circumstances a most
remarkably good dinner. He spoke both German and French fluently, and I
talked with him for two hours or more on a great variety of topics. He
told us we owed our lives to two things. Firstly, a reward of 50 gold
pieces which was offered by the Turkish Government to the Arabs for live
English officers, and secondly, to the fact that the Arabs knew that he
(Kemal Bey) would certainly have hung half a dozen of them if they had
murdered us. Even so, although he had sent his men with all speed he had
scarcely hoped to bring us in alive.
That afternoon we watched two of our aeroplanes searching for us. Kemal
Bey was much impressed by the loyalty of the Flying Corps to one
another, especially when I told him that Lee and Austin had been
captured only because they had descended, most gallantly, to rescue me.
Next morning we left El Karak with a small escort and rode to Kutrani,
the town which we had bombed the day before. The distance is about 45
kilometres. It was a most tedious and boring journey, and we were very
tired when we got in. We slept that night in a tent, and next day
departed by train for Aman. We were traveling in a closed cattle truck,
and, as it was a hot night, our guards left the door open a foot or two.
From the time it was dusk till midnight, when the opportunity had
passed, I waited in a state of the highest tension for a reasonable
chance to jump from the train and make my way to our forces in the
neighborhood of Jericho. Though several times I was on the point of
going, a real chance never came. Although I pretended to sleep, one or
other of my guards, usually only one, was always awake and watching me.
We reached Aman in the early morning. During the day we were
cross-questioned by a German Intelligence officer. I had told Austin and
Lee what to expect, and I don't think he got much change out of any of
us. I was surprised at his knowledge of our forces, and especially when
he showed that he knew or guessed of the presence of two divisions which
had lately come from Mesopotamia.
That night the Turks took special precautions to prevent us from
escaping, but nevertheless treated us quite well, giving us overcoats
and at our request a pack of cards.
At Aman we learnt that we were to be sent to the German aerodrome at El
Afule. The journey lasted, as far as I remember, four or five days, as
the route is a most circuitous one and brought us across the Jordan to
within about 40 miles from our lines and the same distance from the
coast. As soon as we learnt where we were going we made up our minds
that it must be from Afule we would make our attempt to escape. We left
Aman in a comparatively clean cattle truck, but the conditions gradually
became worse, and we finished the journey in a truck filled to the roof,
all but 2 feet, with vermin-infested maize. We were consequently covered
with lice. The food consisted of a very small portion of poor bread,
olives, and semi-raw meat which the Turkish N.C.O. who was in charge of
us tore in pieces for us with his dirty hands. Owing to the food and to
lack of exercise we suffered severely from indigestion and diarrhoea, so
that when we arrived at El Afule we were a pretty miserable trio.
In the red crescent tent, where we were deposited with a sentry to guard
us, there were 6 inches of liquid mud on the floor, for there had been
heavy rain lately, and it started to rain again once more. So we sat on
the beds to keep out of the mud; and in that dripping tent, for it
leaked in innumerable places, cursed the Turks and their damnable
inefficiency. We had been sitting there half an hour or so, very
miserable, when several German flying officers entered the tent. After
rather formal salutations we told them what we thought of their allies
the Turks, and of our treatment by them. One of the Germans then told me
that they were going to try and rescue us from the Turks and take us up
to their mess for a feed and a bath, and we felt much cheered at the
thought. Through an interpreter they tackled the Turkish sentry; but, as
he had had his orders that we were not to move, arguing with him was
just waste of time. The next move amused us a great deal. One of the
Germans wrote a note and, without the sentry noticing, gave it to his
orderly, who departed. Ten minutes later the orderly reappeared and,
saluting violently, handed the note to our would-be rescuers. The note
purported to come from the German Headquarters, I think, and was an
order for us to be handed over to the Germans. This was explained at
great length to the sentry, but made no impression on him whatever.
Quite rightly he refused to let us go. However, the Germans motioned us
to come too, and we all moved out of the tent in a body. The sentry was
in two minds as to whether to shoot or not, but he could not hit us
without shooting a German, so he just followed after. From the station
we walked about 2 miles up to a farmhouse, and were introduced into the
mess, the faithful sentry taking up his watch outside the door,
disregarding the jeers of the German orderlies and hints that his
presence was undesirable. I still feel a great admiration for that
sentry. His blind adherence to the letter of his orders under most
testing circumstances is typical of the best breed of Turkish soldier.
In the mess, the Germans, who were mostly quite young and seemed a very
nice lot of fellows, were extremely hospitable and kind. We begged for a
bath, but they said a bath would be no use to us. We were "verloust,"
and would be introduced to a de-lousing machine the next day. The
commander of the squadron was Hauptmann Franz Walz, who for a long time
had been a fighting pilot on the West front and had been O.C. Boelche's
circus after the latter's death. He had a great admiration for the
R.F.C., but thought that we had lost a great many machines from
recklessness, and owing to mad expeditions on bad machines. In answer to
a question as to which was the most dangerous front on which to fight,
he said that the English front was vastly more dangerous than any other.
The English and French were alone worth consideration as enemies in the
air. The French fought well, with many tricks, but it was seldom that a
Frenchman would fight if outnumbered or at a disadvantage, or over
German lines. For an Englishman to refuse a fight, however, was almost
unknown. If a German wished for a fight he had only to approach the
British lines, when he would be attacked by any and every British pilot
who happened to catch sight of him.
At dinner that night Walz asked us whether we would mind giving our
parole not to escape for so long as we were actually guests of his mess,
as, if we would do so, it would be much more comfortable both for them
and for us. We agreed to this, and consequently were not guarded in any
way whatever. As we were having dinner an orderly told Walz that the
Turkish officer who had brought us from Aman, and from whom we had been
stolen, was waiting outside for us. Walz, to our great amusement, told
the orderly to give the Turk a glass of wine and a seat in the corner.
After dinner Walz spoke to him and refused to give us up; so the Turk
retired, taking the faithful sentry with him. As we had given our
parole, I asked the Germans as a matter of courtesy not to try and
"pump" us on military subjects, and on the whole they were very decent
about this. They left me alone, but put a certain number of leading
questions to Lee and Austin. These two, however, either referred the
question to me for interpretation, or drew without stint on
exceptionally fertile imaginations. They found there were several of the
Germans with whom Lee or Austin had had encounters in the air during the
preceding twelve months, and this led to some most interesting and
friendly discussion of these fights.
The next day was spent in bathing and having our clothes completely
disinfected. Lee and Austin were suffering from stomach trouble and were
rather weak, and it was many days before they recovered. Two days of
good food and rest with the Germans put me quite right again, and when
on the afternoon of the third day we left the German mess and became
once more wretched prisoners in the hands of the Turks, I felt quite fit
for anything and made up my mind to escape on the first opportunity.
Whilst in the German mess we had written notes which the Germans
promised to drop over the lines for us. In them we merely stated that we
were safe and well, and asked that small kits might be dropped over to
us, and signed them Lee, Austin, and Everard. Some months later, while
prisoners at Afion-Kara-Hissar, we all three received bundles of clothes
and necessaries, which were dropped from British planes and they
forwarded to us. How valuable those clothes were to us when they came,
only those who have been prisoners in Turkish hands can understand.
The night after leaving the German mess we were imprisoned in one room
of a wooden hut, in which were three beds, a table, and a couple of
rickety chairs. The window was barred, and outside the door three
Turkish sentries squatted over a small fire and smoked cigarettes. Our
hut was one of several which stood in a large compound bordered with
prickly pears. There were several tents dotted about, and here and there
little groups of men sitting or sleeping round fires. Around us was that
untidiness and irregularity which is characteristic of a Turkish
encampment. Austin, Lee, and I had already discussed the direction in
which to escape, and we decided that it would be best to make for the
coast in a southwest direction. Once on the coast we believed there
would be little difficulty in making our way either through the lines or
round them by means of wading or swimming. If we went by the more direct
route south it would be necessary to cross several very precipitous
ranges of hills, and the going would be very bad. Towards the coast
there was only one range to cross, if we hit the right route, and after
that it would be more or less flat walking--a great consideration for
tired men.
CHAPTER II
ONE MORE RUN
The night after we had left the German mess, both Lee and Austin were so
ill from stomach trouble that it was impossible for them to think of
escaping. It was, however, in all probability the last night on which we
should be within walking distance of our lines, so I determined to make
the attempt by myself. Owing to the nature of their illness, both Lee
and Austin were compelled to make frequent visits to the latrines, which
were little wooden huts about 50 yards away in the middle of the
compound. I also pretended to be ill, and went out each time accompanied
by a sentry, who usually came with us the whole way; but Austin reported
that one sentry had allowed him to get 20 yards ahead, so I made what
preparations I could to escape. We had no map, no compass, and very
little food between us, but it was a starlight night, and I thought I
could scarcely fail to hit the coast. The first three times I went, the
sentry kept too close to me to permit me to escape without considerable
risk of an immediate alarm, and as I hoped with luck and by a skilful
manoeuvre to be past the outside sentries, if there were any, before my
escape was noticed, after due delay I returned each time.
The fourth time I went out, the more careless of the three sentries came
with me, and as he stopped for a moment to say something to his mates, I
walked on quickly and got 20 yards ahead of him. When I came to the
latrine, I pretended to enter the door but actually stepped behind the
hut, and walked rapidly away, keeping the hut between the sentry and
myself. However, I had not gone 30 yards when he saw me. I heard him
shout, so I ran. I think he threw a stone after me, but he did not fire.
As a matter of fact, I must have been a very dim target in that light by
the time he had unslung and cocked his rifle. I passed through a gap in
the prickly pear hedge, and just outside saw a small tent near which
several men were sitting round a fire. One of the camp pickets I
thought; but I passed without being seen and struck out, walking and
running alternately, across the marshy valley of the Kishon, making to
hit the coast somewhat south of Caesarea. At times I thought that the
alarm had been raised behind me, and twice the barking of dogs made me
think that I was being followed. Imagination plays one strange tricks
under circumstances of this sort when one's nerves and senses are strung
to the very highest pitch, for this escape had been by far the greatest
strain on my nerves that I had ever experienced. It was so much worse
than any escape in Germany, because of the long, tense hours while I
waited for an opportunity, because I had to go alone, and because the
risks were greater and the dangers and chances less calculable than in
any previous adventure. "Omne ignotum pro magnifico est."
It had been just about midnight when I left the camp, and it was very
little after 1 o'clock when I reached the rising ground on the west side
of the valley, near the valley of Megiddo, after over 6 miles of very
bad going. All that night I pressed on at top speed, avoiding the
villages and meeting no one in that wild and desolate country. Though I
had to cross several small valleys, most of the time I was climbing, and
dawn found me on rather a bare exposed part on the top of the ridge from
which, when day came, I saw the sea. It had been most difficult to pick
a good hiding-place, as there were no trees and very few bushes; and
some thickish heather behind a small boulder was the best cover I could
find. The country had appeared so desolate at night that I hoped to find
it quite uninhabited in the day time, but I soon saw my mistake. From
about 6 o'clock onwards shepherds with their flocks wandered on many of
the distant hills, and a quarter of a mile away down in the valley there
were many small patches of cultivation, where men were working. I made
up my mind that if chased by Arabs in that country in daylight the
chances of escape were nil, so I took off my boots and went to sleep.
About 8 o'clock I woke up and saw an Arab with a rifle standing about 10
yards off looking at me. His appearance in every sense was most
unexceptionally unpleasant. I nodded to him as he came up, and said
_Guten Tag_, and motioned to him to sit down beside me. He sat down and
made some unintelligible remarks to me, to which I answered in German,
and offered him a cigarette. He smoked for a bit, and things seemed to
me to be going rather well. Then he started talking again, and kept on
repeating some words which I suddenly recognized as Jenin, the name of
the German aerodrome about 4 miles away. I jumped at that and said, "Ja
ja, Deitscher--Jenin tiara (Turkish for aeroplane) boom, boom," and
pointed to myself, by which he was supposed to understand that I was a
German flying man from Jenin aerodrome, and my natural habits were bomb
dropping. He seemed to grasp this, and after smoking another cigarette
went away over the brow of the hill, to my great relief. Soon after his
departure I selected another hiding-place, about 100 yards away, and
crawled into it on my hands and knees. Even if he had come back to look
for me (for I thought he might put two and two together if he learnt
during the day that a prisoner had escaped), I doubt if he would have
found me without the help of a dog.
All that day--and the day seemed endless--I lay in the broiling sun and
suffered very greatly from thirst; for I had had nothing to drink since
about 2 o'clock on the previous night. The only food I had with me was
half a pound of bread and about the same amount of dried greengages, a
food much eaten by the Turkish soldiers and quite nourishing. However, I
was far too thirsty to eat. During the day I saw some German aeroplanes
flying low over the countryside, and thought that perhaps they were
looking for me, as I found out afterwards was the case. Being an airman
myself, I knew that their chance of finding me if I lay still was just
nil, and watching them helped to pass the time. During the day I almost
changed my mind and decided to go due south to our lines, but the sight
of the sea was so attractive that I determined to keep on in that
direction.
The next night's walk was the most terrible experience that I have ever
had. All night, till 4.30 the next morning, I found no water, and
without water I could scarcely eat. Towards morning I could only breathe
with difficulty, my tongue and throat seemed to have swollen, and I made
a harsh whistling noise when I breathed. I tried sucking various herbs,
and eventually tried the leaves of the cactus, which seemed to give
momentary relief, so I put some bits of it in my pocket. The loneliness
was oppressive past all belief and I longed for a companion, but the
only noises were the occasional bark of a dog from an Arab village and
the almost continual wailing of the jackals. The going was for the most
part very bad, always up or down hill, and was made more difficult by
the clouds which obscured the moon for a good part of the night. In one
valley which I had to cross, the ground, for a mile or more, was strewn
thickly with loose boulders, varying in size from a football to a grand
piano. The boulders lay on loose shingle so that they slipped or moved
if you stepped on them, and in the cracks and crevices between the
boulders were thick thorn bushes. In my exhausted state and in the dim
light, it was a nightmare getting through this place. I fell repeatedly
trying to jump from one boulder to another, and my clothes were much
torn and my face and hands were bleeding freely before I got out of that
dreadful place. Once I collapsed, and as I lay on the ground I fell
asleep. Half an hour later I woke and, feeling rather better, pushed on
again. About 3.30 a.m. I got through the hills and on to the flat
country which borders the coast. If I could have found water earlier I
believe I should have reached the coast that night, but it was not till
about 4.30 a.m. that I found a square hole in a rock half full of water.
I drank that dry. A few hundred yards farther on I heard men talking,
and going forward cautiously saw Turkish soldiers seated round a small
fire. Making a detour, I marched on for half a mile and then heard a man
call out on my right. There was only a dim light, as the moon was half
hidden by clouds, and I could not see the man. Another man answered him
on the left, and I realized that I was passing through a line of
sentries. But if I could not see them they could not see me, so I pushed
on till I suddenly saw a troop of cavalry advancing on me. I dropped to
the ground and curled myself round a small bush about 2 feet high and
lay quite still--it was the only possible thing to do. The cavalry came
straight towards me, and it was not till they were 10 yards off that I
saw that there was only one horseman and that he was driving half a
dozen cattle before him. The cattle passed a yard or two to my right and
left, but the horse actually stepped over my head without touching me. I
felt most thankful when they had disappeared from sight, and realized
that I must now be in the middle of a Turkish military area. However, as
there was no hiding-place of any sort to be seen, I walked on once more,
keeping a very careful lookout both for the Turks and for a
hiding-place. I soon found the latter. It was a patch of corn about an
acre in size, so I crawled into it and lay down in the middle, feeling
fairly secure. It was a great pity to lose half an hour of darkness,
but I knew that an hour or two's walk would bring me to the coast, and
it might be difficult to find a better hiding-place in that flat
country. Once more I suffered a great deal from heat and thirst, for I
found to my surprise that corn stalks give no shade from a sun which
beats almost straight down.
That evening it began to rain, and as soon as the sun set it became
pitch dark. When it was so dark that a man could not be seen at 5 yards'
distance I left my cornfield and marched due west. I had taken my
bearings from the sun during the day, so that even if there were no
stars I should know by landmarks in which direction I was walking. Soon
all landmarks were blotted out by the inky darkness and pelting rain,
and I began to realize that it might be possible to lose my way even
when within one hour's walk of the sea. Owing to the rain the going was
rather heavy, being mostly over cultivated land, and when I had been
walking for half an hour I began to feel fearfully tired. I staggered
rather than walked, and could scarcely put one clay-laden foot before
the other. Quite suddenly I collapsed, and lay on the ground totally
unable to move. I managed to put my hand over my heart and could feel
that it was running most irregularly and misfiring in the most
extraordinary way. After about a quarter of an hour it got much better,
so I had a few mouthfuls of bread and went on again. Before long I came
on a field of things that looked like beans. I tried eating them, but
they seemed to clog up my throat and made me feel worse than before. For
the next hour I guided myself by the croaking of the frogs in the
marshes, which I knew ran parallel to the sea and only a few miles away
from it. When I reached the marshes it had stopped raining, but the
clouds were so dense that I could see no moon or stars. I had rather a
struggle crossing the marshes, and in some places was up to my waist in
mud and water. Once my feet almost stuck, and as I dragged them out the
soles of both my shoes tore off the uppers. I bound them on again as
well as I could, and then walked on again in the direction I thought was
right. For the next four hours I pushed on at a good pace, hoping
against hope that every step would show me the sea. But it was not to
be. My shoes were so uncomfortable that much of the time I went
barefooted, but there were many stones and thistles about and I hurt my
feet and made poor progress. At about 3 a.m. I got a glimpse of the moon
and saw that I was walking northeast instead of west. Heaven knows where
I was or for how long I had been walking in a totally wrong direction.
For all I knew I might have walked 10 miles from the sea in the last
four hours. Then the moon went in again and the rain came on. Soon after
that I ran into an encampment of some sort and was chased by dogs; they
followed me some way barking, but did not attack me. Then I got tangled
up in more marshes, and in the darkness lost my direction again
hopelessly.
As it began to get light I found myself near some quite nice-looking
stone buildings, and sitting down in an orchard in the pouring rain I
debated what to do. I was very exhausted, and most dejected at my ill
luck. Our lines could not be less than 18 miles away, so that even if I
hit the coast very early the following night I should not cross the
lines without two more nights' marching and still worse two more days of
lying hid. I was desperately hungry and my food was almost exhausted. If
recaptured I could only expect very rough treatment, and I wished to
keep a little strength in hand to stand that. Added to this, my feet
were in such a condition that walking was most painful. But that which
finally made me decide to give myself up was that for the last two hours
I had come across no spot which would serve as a hiding-place. How I
longed to have Buckley with me! If he had been there I think we should
have encouraged each other to carry on for one more night at any rate.
However, I can't blame myself too much, as I was in a pretty hopeless
position. The remembrance of the whole adventure annoys me beyond words.
I was so near success. That last night is to me a tragedy. What is to
come is sheer comedy.
The house where I had made up my mind to give myself up was a square
stone two-storied building with a wooden veranda along one side. It was
surrounded by a high wall in which there was an iron gate. Finding the
gate shut, I turned my attention to a wooden outbuilding, in one of the
windows a faint light was showing. I banged on the door, and after a
minute or two it was opened by a small dark man in trousers and shirt
and bare feet. He appeared rather frightened, and said some words which
I did not understand. I tried him in German, saying that I wanted
shelter and food. As I had had practically nothing to eat for sixty
hours, and was drenched to the skin, he had no difficulty in guessing
what I wanted, if he did not understand. He went back into the room and
put on some boots and a coat. The room seemed almost completely bare
except for a number of people who were sleeping, rolled in blankets, on
the floor or on very low beds. Soon the man came out again and shouted
towards the house in a language which I guessed to be Hebrew, as there
was no mistaking his nationality. After much shouting a man of a most
pronounced Jewish type came to the gate. We had some difficulty in
understanding each other, as he spoke a thick and almost
incomprehensible German. He wanted to know who I was and what I wanted,
and when he learnt, much to his surprise, was most unwilling to have
anything to do with me. The prospect of immediate food and shelter made
me quite callous about the more remote future, so I said he could send
for the Turks in the morning if he would only take me in for the night.
At that he opened the gate and beckoned to me to follow him. After
mounting some wooden steps outside the house to the balcony he brought
me into a room which stank most horribly of stale humanity and garlic.
The room was quite bare except for two beds and a sort of couch, on
which men were lying rolled in blankets. They gave me some incredibly
disgusting cold rissoles, mainly made of garlic, which nearly made me
sick; but I managed to eat two or three of them. In this extraordinary
household they all appeared to go to bed in their day clothes, and
looked and smelt as if they had never washed from the day they were
born. I think they meant to be kind to me, but they were very
frightened and miserably poor in food and utensils of every sort. They
made signs to me to lie on a bed which one of them vacated, so I took
off most of my wet clothes and fell asleep instantly.
* * * * *
I was awakened from my sleep abruptly by the blankets being torn off my
bed. A nasty-looking Arab, in a uniform of a Turkish officer, was
standing close to me brandishing a revolver. A few feet away was a
Turkish sentry, and in the background the Jews huddled together in the
corner. The Arab took hold of my wrist and tried to pull me out of bed.
That made me mad with anger, so I shook him off and damned his eyes,
whereupon he presented the revolver at my head. So I took hold of myself
and, obeying signs from him, got out of bed and began to dress into my
wet things. Seeing me more docile he lowered the revolver and, seizing
his opportunity, patted me on the head to show there was no ill feeling.
My resentment at this was so obvious that he produced the revolver
again, but thereafter kept his distance. My feet and my shoes were in
such a condition that it was clear that I should have great difficulty
in walking. I pointed this out to him and, whether at his order or out
of kindness--the latter, I think--one of the Jews brought me a pair of
old boots. Though the Jews had immediately sent word to the Turks, I
feel no violent resentment towards them, as they were obviously
frightened out of their skins at my presence in the house. In other ways
I think they did their best for me, and were sorry for me; owing to
their extreme poverty they could not do much. I suppose they just had
licence to live from the Turks, and that's about all. Even at the time
most men would have preferred infinitely to take my chances of life and
treatment rather than live under the conditions in which these Jews were
living. Poor brutes! But then I had the same feeling about every Turkish
soldier. Perhaps that is why the Turks are so callous of life. They live
so close to the borderland where life becomes intolerable that it can
mean little to them to die. Just before we marched off the Jews gave me
some more of their disgusting meat, and, when I reproached them for
sending for the Turks so soon, they answered that they were terrified
and could not help it. When we had gone a few hundred yards from the
house I saw suddenly that my wrist-watch was missing. I made the Arab
understand this by signs, and let him know that I wanted to go back and
fetch it. He refused, and when I showed signs of obstinacy began to
finger his revolver. So we continued the march. I made sure then that
the brute had stolen it.
It was a beautifully fine morning, very fresh and pleasant after the
rain, and though my feet hurt me I was much refreshed by the food and
sleep. As I knew from experience, alas! it was not till later that I
should feel the full bitterness of failure.
When we had gone about a mile we came on a sentry standing beside the
path. The Arab called to him and he came up, a poor miserable underfed
brute, and stood stiffly to attention. Apparently the soldier had failed
to arrive in time to assist in my arrest. A few words passed, and then
the Arab hit him half a dozen blows in the face with his hand. The man
winced at each blow but remained at attention, and then fell in behind.
To see an unresisting man hit in this way is a horrible and demoralizing
sight, and I felt quite literally sick with rage. A little farther on a
second sentry was treated in exactly similar fashion. A walk of a little
over half an hour, through comparatively well-cultivated country,
brought us to the Jewish colony, the village of Hedera. There were many
evidences that this colony had been a flourishing and pleasant little
place in times of peace. The houses were of wood or stone, pretty and
well built, and most of them stood in their own gardens and there were
many signs that a more civilized race than the Turks or Arabs had been
in occupation. In an airy bungalow I was introduced to Ahmed Hakki Bey,
Turkish commandant of the place. He gave me a seat as well as coffee,
brandy, and unlimited cigarettes. A Turk, who spoke French, acted as
interpreter, and seemed particularly anxious to impress upon me that the
Turks were not barbarians. First of all, I had to be identified. There
was some difficulty about this, as the description of me which
apparently had been circulated did not tally in the slightest degree
with the original. However, they had little difficulty in accepting me
as the "wanted" man, though the commandant said he felt a little
aggrieved that I had no points of resemblance whatever to my official
description. I was treated by him with great consideration and, after he
had questioned me, more from curiosity than for official reasons, he
asked me if I wanted anything. I answered that I wished to sleep and
then to eat.
I was led by the interpreter to a very small room in which there was a
bed and blankets. He was most anxious to impress me with the generous
and civilized way in which I was being treated. "And yet," he said, "all
Englishmen say that Turks are barbarians, don't they?" "Ah no," I
answered, "only those who have not come into close contact with the
Turks may have a false opinion of them." "Then you do not now think the
Turks barbarians?" "Since I have been a prisoner in their hands I have
completely changed my mind." As a matter of fact, in pre-war days I
always imagined the Turks to be rather good fellows. I had already
changed my mind, and I was soon to be quite converted. The Turkish
official is as corrupt, cruel, unscrupulous, and ignorant as any class
on earth. That some of them have a thin or even fairly thick coating of
European civilization only makes them in my opinion the more odious. I
came across a few--a very few--who seemed notable exceptions, but that
may have been because I did not have time or opportunity to penetrate
the outer coating of decency.
During this conversation I took off most of my clothes, which were still
very wet, and got into bed and soon fell asleep. When I awoke the room
was crammed with people, who had come to look at me. I counted sixteen
at one time in that tiny room. Women came as well as men, and I was
subjected to a hail of questions, either through the interpreter or by
those who could speak German or French. One of the Jews who had been my
host a few hours before came in and, seizing an opportunity, whispered
to me in German, "We did not take it; he did," indicating the Turkish
officer who had captured me. I knew he was referring to my watch, and
determined to complain to the commandant. The whole position was most
undignified, but I did not see how I could help it. After all, I was
being treated with a crude and barbarous generosity which was rather
astonishing.
About midday I was given food, and then brought once more before the
commandant. He was standing outside his bungalow surrounded by a number
of Turks and half the population of the village, and made a speech to
me, which appeared to be most pleasant, and I gathered that he was
complimenting both himself and me on the signal proof that had been
afforded me that the Turks were not barbarians. Both he and his
interpreter had "barbarian" on the brain. When he had finished I took
the opportunity of stating that someone had stolen my watch, and added,
very unwisely as I soon discovered, that I rather suspected his officer.
This was something of an anti-climax. However, he soon recovered
himself, and gave me a hasty promise that he would investigate the
matter. I abandoned all hope of seeing my watch again.
* * * * *
The journey from Hedera to Tulkeram was made on horseback. To my disgust
I found that the same Turk who had arrested me, and whom I had just
accused publicly of stealing my watch, was to be my escort. The officer
and I were mounted, but we were accompanied by two Turkish soldiers on
foot, and I was astonished at the way these men kept up with us. In
spite of rifles and ammunition and heavy clothes, and in spite of the
heat, these men kept up a speed of quite six or seven miles an hour for
the first six miles of the journey. After that the Turk deliberately
left them behind; keeping just behind me he urged my horse into a
canter, which we kept up till we were well out of sight. By this time I
had made absolutely certain that the brute intended to murder me, and my
anxiety was not lessened when he drew a large revolver and had pot shots
at various objects by the wayside. Of course he would have a simple and
satisfactory excuse for shooting me, by saying that I had attempted to
escape. About half a mile ahead, in the otherwise flat plain, were two
very low ridges which hid the path we were following from almost all
sides, and I felt that it would be here that the deed would be done, and
I began to think out a plan for attacking him first and then escaping in
earnest. At the best, however, the situation seemed to me pretty
serious. Of course I may have misjudged him, but I still believe he
intended to murder me. Just as we were crossing the first low ridge a
small caravan came round the corner. I breathed a prayer of
thanksgiving, and my Turk put away his revolver and drew his horse up
alongside of mine. For the rest of the way we were, to my great relief,
and as luck would have it, never out of sight of human beings for more
than a few minutes at a time. However, as I said before, I may have
misjudged the fellow.
At a village a few miles north of Tulkeram we halted to water our
horses, and while we were sitting there eating some food we had brought
with us a German officer and his orderly rode by. The German caught
sight of me, and coming across asked me in German if I was the English
flying captain who had attempted to escape. When I answered in the
affirmative he told me that I should not be long a prisoner as the war
would be over in three months. "Why do you say that?" I asked.
"Because," said he, "our armies have been completely victorious in
France." At my request he gave me some details of the places that had
been captured, and added that to all intents and purposes the war was
over, and asked me what I thought of it. I said that I did not put any
reliance on German _communiques_, but that if it was true it looked as
if the war would last another four years. He left me feeling rather
miserable at the way things might be going in France. I hated that
German, so damned condescending and superior. No man with any instincts
of a gentleman would have gloried over an unfortunate prisoner as he had
done.
About the rest of the journey to Tulkeram there is nothing to add. I was
received there by the very worst and most unpleasant type of
superficially civilized Turk, and by a gruff and, I should think,
efficient German intelligence officer. After some questioning, I was put
into the charge of a Turkish officer of the intolerably stupid type,
with whom I very soon lost my temper completely. He deposited me in a
cell in what I imagine was the civil prison. A sentry was left in the
cell with me, whose presence and dirty habits annoyed me beyond words.
By one of those amazing incongruities, possible where the Turk rules and
nowhere else, I found in a corner of the cell three very fine new
eiderdowns, and with these made myself a comfortable bed and went to
sleep. I was awakened some hours later by three English Tommies being
brought into the cell. One of them was badly wounded in the arm just
above the elbow. The wound obviously needed dressing, so after five
exasperating minutes I managed to convey to the sentry that I insisted
on seeing an officer immediately. When the same fool of an officer
turned up, his dense, imperturbable stupidity nearly drove me mad. At
length I turned my back on him and lay down once more in my corner. When
a man has been starving he cannot satisfy his hunger at one meal, and I
was now desperately hungry. The strain through which I had lately passed
was as much nervous as physical, and it had left me so irritable that I
sometimes think that I could not have been quite sane during that
intolerable never-to-be-forgotten three weeks' train journey to
Constantinople. I lost my temper daily, and several times a day. But
then the Turks are an irritating nation to a prisoner with a spark of
pride left in him. Even now it makes me hot and angry when I think of
the Turk, and the hatred of Turkish officialdom is branded on my soul.
That night we, the three Tommies and I, left in a cattle truck on the
first stage of our long journey. They gave me some food before we
started, but no doctor came for the unfortunate wounded man. I protested
whenever I saw anyone who could speak a Christian lingo, and promises
were given by superficially civilized barbarians that it should be
attended to. But result there was none.
The journey to Constantinople, with breaks of a few days at Damascus and
Aleppo, lasted, as near as I can reckon now, for about three weeks.
Many of the details of time and place, I am almost thankful to say, I
have forgotten; but in any case I would not tell of the journey in
detail, not only for fear of boring anyone who has been kind enough to
read so far, but also because the memory of the journey is abhorrent to
me. I found out afterwards that my heart had been considerably displaced
by my late exertions. I was tired, irritable, disappointed, and ill;
continually subjected to small indignities, which are more unbearable
than open insults; covered with lice; unable to lie down for days on
end; herded with Jews and civil prisoners, and ordered about by a
Turkish gendarme or "dog collar" man, whose impenetrable stupidity
nearly drove me mad. In reality I suppose the hardships of this journey
were not very great, and many times in the past had I suffered much
greater privations and discomforts, but never have I experienced
anything so hard to bear, or of which the memories are so unpleasant.